


Dirty Pool

by castielshoneybee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bartender Reader, Dean stays after last call, F/M, Pool Table Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 14:30:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8536780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/castielshoneybee/pseuds/castielshoneybee
Summary: Writing Prompt: Some shirts were meant to be torn off the body.





	

“What can I getcha, handsome? It's last call, so you're just getting the one. Choose wisely.” You slide a coaster onto the bar top, taking in the chiseled jaw, the smattering of freckles, and the strong forearms of the man slipping onto the stool. Eyes like the grass in spring meet yours as he settles into his seat.

“Double bourbon. Neat.”

“Got a preference?” He shakes his head.

“Rail’s fine.” He raises an eyebrow as he sees you pour him top shelf anyway.

“Don't worry, honey, I'll only charge you for rail.” You wink, and his face splits into a grin. Your stomach flip flops, but you try to keep your cool as you lower the music and raise your voice. “Last call! Finish ‘em up!” You turn away from Freckles to address the man leaning sloppily against the bar. “Sorry, Tommy. No last call for you. You've had enough. Lemme call you a cab.” Whatever he mumbles is pretty incoherent, but judging by the way he punctuates it by picking up and flinging a pile of coasters at you, you guess he's not pleased that you cut him off. That suspicion is confirmed when he moves to come around the bar, mumbling the whole time. You definitely pick out “bitch” in his ramblings. You move to the side, reaching down for the bat you keep under the bar, but you don't have a chance to grab it before Tommy is yanked back around the bar and plopped in the nearest chair.

“She said you've had enough, buddy, and she's right. Now sit your ass down and wait for your cab.” Tommy looks up, bleary eyes meeting clear green ones. You can see him assessing the situation, and even in his inebriated state he can recognize that Freckles has five inches and thirty pounds on him, not to mention being about a decade younger. He deflates into the seat as you pick up the phone to call a cab. Freckles resumes his place at the bar and continues to nurse his drink.

“You didn't have to do that, but thanks.” He aims another heart stopping grin at you, and you feel heat pooling in your belly.

“Hey, I'm sure you could've handled it just fine, but I figured a little help might be welcome.” You smile and lean your elbows on the bar, lowering your voice conspiratorially.

“Stick around after I lock the door. I'll give you another drink on the house. It'll be our little secret.” You wink at him again and give him a coy smile, and the smile he gives in return is so suggestive, you feel your panties instantly dampen.

“Lucky for you I'm good at keeping secrets, sweetheart.” Tommy’s cab arrives, and the last few stragglers filter out of the bar, leaving just the two of you. You lock the door behind the last customer and turn around as hands land on your hips. He pulls you close, lips inches from yours. Without a word, he crushes his lips to yours, tongue seeking entrance. Your arms wind around his neck as he pulls your hips flush with his and reaches around with both hands to cup your ass. Your tongues duel, fighting for dominance, both of you giving as good as you get. He swings you around and backs you up until you hit the pool table. You hop onto it, wrapping your legs around his waist. He breaks the kiss, moving down to leave open mouth kisses along your neck. Impatient, he grabs the front of your top and pulls it open, the sound of tearing fabric mingling with the clatter of buttons across the floor as he pulls it off you, discarding it beside you on the table. He growls at the tank top you're wearing underneath, and you suppress a giggle at his frustration. He removes his shirt as you grab the hem and quickly pull it over your head, exposing your breasts. He growls again, but for a different reason, and he attacks your breasts, nipping and sucking each nipple in turn as you rut against him. “Mmm, someone's eager.”

“You know I am.” He smirks as he kisses his way down your stomach until he reaches the top of your jeans. He flicks the button open, undoing the zipper with one hand and trying to pull them down with the other. You lean back on your elbows so he can lift your hips, then kick off your shoes as he drags them down your legs and off, panties along with them. He leans over, dragging his tongue along your slit, but your groan turns to a whimper when he pulls away.

“Just a sec, sweetheart. The table’s a little too high for me to kneel.” He drags over the nearest chair and positions himself between your thighs, darting his tongue out to take up where he left off. The tip of his tongue finds your sensitive clit, and a moan falls from your lips as he circles the sensitive bud. He slips a finger inside you, then another, working them in concert with his tongue. Pressure builds in your core, and when he crooks his fingers, perfectly hitting your g-spot, it explodes, and you cry out, falling onto your back as your orgasm overwhelms you, all strength leaving your arms. When you come back to your senses, you lift your head to see him looking up at you with a self satisfied smile. He stands and nudges you. “On your stomach, sweetheart.” You roll over, planting your feet on the floor. You hear the sound of his zipper, and your walls clench in anticipation. You feel the tip of his cock pressing against your entrance, then he's inside you to the hilt, holding still to enjoy the feel of your tight, wet heat surrounding him. He fills you so perfectly, but you need more. He chuckles as you push back against him, desperate for him to move. He grabs your hips and thrusts once. “Is this what you want?”

“Nnff, yes!” He thrusts again, then sets a demanding pace, his grunts mingling with your moans and the scrape of the pool table inching across the floor. You feel your second orgasm building.

“Come on, baby. Wanna feel you come around my cock.” He reaches around, finding your clit and rubbing back and forth, sending you careening over the edge, your walls tightening around him. His thrusts become wild and rough, dragging your orgasm out. He suddenly stills as he coats your walls with his release, then gives a few more shallow thrusts as he rides out his orgasm. He falls against your back, giving it a few tiny kisses before pulling out of you and dragging up his pants. You roll back over, sitting up and picking up your ruined shirt, inspecting the damage. 

“Dammit, Dean. This was my favorite shirt!” He chuckles as he pulls his t-shirt back on.

“Sorry, sweetheart. But you know, some shirts were meant to be torn off the body.” He offers his hand to help you off the table. “Come on, I'll help you clean up. The sooner we get home, the sooner we can start round two.”


End file.
